Back to School
by Darke Angelus
Summary: It is a Saiyan warrior's absolute worst fear beyond combat, war, or even death. Goku and Vegeta, forced by their wives, must take schooling in subjects that they desperately need. The question is this: Do you actually think they'll do as they're told? Not likely! -One shot-


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The Disclaimer: blah blah blah...DRAGONBALL Z ...yadda yadda yadda ...copyright of all characters... blah blah blah... the great, all-powerful Akira Toriyama... yadda yadda yadda... C'mon an get me ya lousy Feds!...HAH!  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------- BACK TO SCHOOL  
  
  
  
"I don't wanna go."  
  
Pulling onto the street of the school, Chi-Chi cast a sour glance at the passenger beside her. "We already discussed this at home. You're going and that's final."  
  
"But I don't wanna!" Gokou whined.  
  
Submerging the urge to smack him side of the head, his wife gripped the steering wheel with a deathgrip instead. "You've been putting this off for years. It's time to finally get it done."  
  
Slumping back into the passenger seat in defeat, Gokou watched the Western Capital Community College come into sight. They've been arguing over the issue for hours. All he wanted to do was stay home and goof off but noooooo, as usual his wife had other ideas. Of all of the enemies and foes that he'd battled over the years, it was Chi-Chi who he feared the most.  
  
When they pulled into the parking lot, he saw something that immediately pulled him out of his sulk. It was a midnight-black sports car convertible with the vanity plate "Badman" on the front. "Oh cool! Vegeta's here!"  
  
Chi-Chi snapped her head around in surprise. Sure enough, the Saiyan's car was straddling the line and taking up two parking spots near the door. Grumbling under her breath, she deliberately parked on the far side of the parking lot. The last thing she wanted to do was park their ten-year-old dented compact next to a vehicle that was worth more then what the Son family saw in ten years. To his credit, Gokou kept his mouth shut. He knew of his mate's animosity over the former villain and he wasn't going to piss her off any more than she already was.  
  
When they got out, he humbly flanked his wife and joined the line-up that was out of the doors. The signs on the windows informed them that this was the last opportunity to sign-up for night courses. Dancing on his tiptoes, Gokou caught sight of that familiar head of sea-foamed colored hair. "!!BULMA!!" he screamed making heads turn in all directions.  
  
Reddening in embarrassment, Chi-Chi hissed, "Please keep your voice down. We're in a public pla-"  
  
"Hey, Bulma! Over here! Yoo-hoo!" Gokou continued, jumping up and down and waving madly.  
  
Halfway up the stairs to the administrative level, Bulma looked around and spotted them. Not willing to give up her place she began motioning at them to join her. Tugging on his wife's sleeve, Gokou pulled her along past irate adults and settled into the line right behind Bulma, ignoring the comments aimed at them.  
  
"-butting in?! How rude-"  
  
"-Been waiting in line for over two hours and they just-"  
  
"-Henry! Aren't you going to say anything-"  
  
"Thanks for letting us in, Bulma," Gokou said cheerfully. "I saw Vegeta's car in the parking lot. Are you both here together?"  
  
Casting her dearest friend a broad smile, Bulma answered, "I managed to drag him along but he took one look at the crowd and bolted. You know how he is."  
  
"I certainly do," Chi-Chi muttered coolly. She was eyeing the heiress's sharp business attire with acute jealousy, well aware of her own peasant dress and sandals. And odor. It hadn't helped that she had fed the animals shortly before departing and carried the distinct aroma of "Eau de Barnyard" on her clothes.  
  
"Lessee if he's nearby..." Gokou reached out with his mental sense and immediately broke out in a broad grin. "Oh! He's right on the roof. I gotta go say hi-"  
  
"Gokou, don't you dare-" Chi-Chi started but she was already too late. Pressing two fingers to his forehead, the Saiyan used his gift of instant transmission and winked out of sight. The sullen grumbling in the foyer of the school abruptly stopped to be replaced by stunned silence.  
  
Chi-Chi pressed her face into her hands and wished that the floor would just suck her up. When she felt a gentle hand squeeze her shoulder, she looked into Bulma's smiling face.  
  
"Sometimes, you just have to learn to let them go," Bulma soothed. After all, she knew just what the brunette was going through.  
  
  
  
Vegeta was sitting on the edge of the roof. He was watching the seemingly never-ending parade of humans driving in and gathering at the front of the building to enroll in courses that made little sense to him; Flower Arranging 101, Making Papyrus, Working with Wool, that sort of useless shit. The only thing that piqued his interest was Belly Dancing and he certainly wasn't thinking it for himself. Unfortunately, Bulma was soon going to be in no shape for such activities. At the mere reminder, he pitched his finished cigarette over the edge and immediately lit a new one with shaking hands.  
  
"Hey! I didn't know you smoked!" called a voice behind him.  
  
Kakarrot. Vegeta had watched him come in with that shrew of a wife not so long ago and knew his period of isolation was soon to be over. Answering the accusation, he responded, "Not often. Just in particular circumstances."  
  
"Like when?" Gokou asked, sauntering up beside him.  
  
A slanted smile crossed the older Saiyan's face. "Usually I'll have one after sex, for example."  
  
"Oh. So that doesn't mean too many?"  
  
"No. I average about half a pack."  
  
"Well, I guess that's not so bad-"  
  
"A week."  
  
Betraying one stunned blink, Gokou was never quite sure when he was the recipient of a sarcastic joke from the other alien, or witnessing an actual confession. Either way, the subject matter was usually over his head, particularly when sex was the issue and he chose to let the matter slide. "I saw Bulma downstairs. What course is she signing up for?"  
  
The approachable humor on Vegeta's face evaporated. "The woman isn't here for her sake. She's blackmailing me to enroll in some waste-of-time idea of hers."  
  
"I don't know how Bulma could ever blackmail you into doing anything that you didn't want to-"  
  
"What did I tell you about the cigarettes, Kakarrot?"  
  
"...oh. I get it."  
  
"You might, but I sure wouldn't," Vegeta grumbled morosely. "Damn- that woman knows my leash."  
  
"I guess I know what you're talking about," Gokou confessed. "I've been promising Chi-Chi for years that I would get my high school diploma. She got fed up with my stalling and decided to enroll me in study courses so that I can finally get it over with."  
  
"So? Gohan breezed through those imbecilic subjects with ease."  
  
"Well, yeah." Gokou traced aimless designs into the roof shingles with the toe of his boot. "To be honest, I didn't have the heart to tell Chi-Chi that I was just hoping for my Grade Six."  
  
For one long moment, Vegeta was silent as he absorbed what the younger Saiyan was saying. Finally, he threw his head back and started laughing out loud. "You didn't even pass Elementary? Kakarrot, you are so SCREWED!"  
  
"Uh-huh. And what's Bulma signing YOU up for?"  
  
Vegeta's mirth instantly dried up. "Anger Management," he confessed and scowled when it was Gokou's turn to burst out laughing. "I didn't have much choice. Bulma's pregnant. Again."  
  
Gokou's eyes widened comically. "Pregnant? WOW! Congratulations, Vegeta!" He managed to land one successful slap on the back before the smaller Saiyan moved beyond his reach. "Was this one planned? Uh, I mean, y'know... did the both of you want to-"  
  
"Yes, Kakarrot. This time, the pregnancy was planned," Vegeta responded almost wearily. After a moment's deliberation he decided to drop the bombshell, "The ki of the infant is female."  
  
"You're going to have a daughter?! That's great! Girls are rare for Saiyan's, aren't they?"  
  
"Yes. That's the reason Bulma wants to send me for some," he released a strangled cough, "sensitivity training. So that I'll be better prepared to handle the babe when she's born."  
  
"Huh. Looks like we're both screwed, doesn't it?" Gokou said, expecting a unanimous nod from the other alien. Instead, a peculiar expression crossed over Vegeta's face, one that immediately put the other man on guard. It meant that the Saiyan Prince was scheming and that was NEVER a good thing.  
  
"How important is that diploma to you, Kakarrot?" Vegeta asked thoughtfully.  
  
"Why? What's on your mind, Vegeta?"  
  
"Just answer the damned question."  
  
"I have to get it," Gokou admitted. "If I don't, Chi-Chi will never let me hear the end of it."  
  
Nodding once, Vegeta finished his cigarette and ground it under the heel of his shoe. "I might have thought of a way the both of us can pass these courses."  
  
"You're gonna bribe them?" Gokou whispered.  
  
"No, you idiot."  
  
"You're not gonna kill them, are you? 'Cause if you do that, I might have to-"  
  
"Nobody's going to get hurt, Kakarrot! Do you want to hear my plan or not?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
Passing him a predator's grin, Vegeta said simply, "We're going to switch places."  
  
For a moment Gokou only stared blankly at him, waiting to see if there was any more to this 'master plan'. When there didn't seem to be, he ventured, "You take my class, I'll take yours, you mean?"  
  
"You've got it."  
  
"It'll never work, Vegeta."  
  
"Why not?" the smaller man demanded. "I'm the one with the brains; you're the emotional sponge. It's brilliant!"  
  
Gokou was shaking his head. "For one thing we don't even look alike. Then there's the height difference-" He paused as Vegeta's eyes narrowed in agitation at the reminder. "-Not to mention the hair! It's just impossible."  
  
"We've come back from the dead, NOTHING is impossible. Not even passing these moronic human courses. You leave the details to me, Kakarrot. You have nothing to worry about." Vegeta told him directly.  
  
Gokou was going to tell him that THAT assurance only worried him more until Chi-Chi screeched his name at the same time that Vegeta's cell-phone started to ring.  
  
Leaning over the roof edge, Gokou waved good-naturedly to his wife who was standing directly below him. Beside her, Bulma was speaking into her own phone and from behind him he could hear Vegeta grunting his responses into the receiver. Anyone witness to the scene would have declared the pair the most pussy-whipped aliens in the entire Universe.  
  
"Hiya honey!" Gokou called down to her. "Is everything all done?"  
  
"I've finished with the registration but I need your help to carry all of the books!" she yelled. "Get your butt down here!"  
  
She wasn't the only one yelling. Red-faced and pacing, Vegeta was shouting into his phone; "I did NOT agree to 'Hug Therapy'! Are you insane, woman?!"  
  
Gokou could hear Bulma yelling back- "You're going and that's final!" -from below and the pair simultaneously hung up on the other at the precise moment.  
  
"!!GOKOU!!" Chi-Chi was really screaming now.  
  
"We are going to make this work," Vegeta promised him. His teeth were clenched so tightly that they ached. "Do you hear me?"  
  
"I hear you," Gokou said lamely. "We'll arrange a spar and talk more about this."  
  
"Now you're talking," the smaller Saiyan said and flashed him a grin that would have made a shark run for cover. Even more surprising was Gokou's own responsive smile. Once, for just once in his life, he would love to get one over on Chi-Chi and this appeared to finally be the moment. Both men shared a rare moment in unspoken camaraderie-  
  
-Then the wives started shrieking again, shattering the moment. As usual.  
  
  
  
Once the registration was all said and done, it appeared that Vegeta's scheme would never see daylight. Both his and Gokou's courses were on entirely different days, which would have made switching places an impossibility. Then a funny thing happened about a week before the classes were supposed to start. All of a sudden, the courses Vegeta was signed up for ran concurrent with Gokou's at precisely the same days and times. Gokou wasn't quite sure what to make of it. He hadn't seen any murders or property damage that might have provided an explanation, not even a kidnapping. He eventually reached the conclusion that perhaps his earlier question about bribes may have come true after all. Vegeta WAS married into the wealthiest family on the planet and whatever allowance Bulma gave him, it was likely more than enough to persuade a cash-strapped college to make some minor scheduling changes.  
  
A couple of days after the schedule got changed, the pair met and began to hammer out the details. Gokou also brought one of his spare gi uniforms for Vegeta to take to his tailor and make copies (there was no way in hell that he was going to let any clothes of Kakarrot actually touch his skin). It also meant that he had to drag the fighter along and give him a wardrobe befitting an Earth-stranded Prince. There was a good five inches of height difference between them and none of Vegeta's clothes could be altered to make the proper fit.  
  
The pair went to a professional men's clothing store that was located in the wealthy north quarter of the Capital. They had no sooner entered the affluent shop when the Manager himself hustled over to Vegeta, forcing a broad, false smile on his pudgy features. "Prince Vegeta, what a wonderful surprise to have you back here so soon! I'm honored!"  
  
- Prince? Gokou asked telepathically, arching one eyebrow.  
  
- Why the surprise? Vegeta responded. Besides, I've missed having people kiss my ass. "I want you to outfit my... acquaintance here with the styles I'm accustomed to wearing. Make it snappy."  
  
"Yes sir! If you'll just come this way-" The Manager snapped his fingers to the rest of the staff, and the pair were expertly led to a corner of the large store reserved exclusively for private shoppers.  
  
"Y'know," Gokou ventured later as he tried on another ensemble that the store staff were laying out for him, "I didn't figure you shopped off the rack."  
  
"That a fact," Vegeta muttered as he lounged in a nearby recliner, watching his rival strut around in the clothes he was paying for. He was keeping a running tab on the expenses and doing a slow burn.  
  
"Well yeah, I mean there's only one section that would really fit you and I didn't think you actually went into the-"  
  
"I swear to Dende, Kakarrot, if you utter the words 'Children's Section' I will stiff you with the bill."  
  
Gokou, who had taken one look at the price tag attached to just a pair of silk boxers, swallowed once and wisely kept his mouth shut on the touchy subject.  
  
Six outfits and thirty thousand zeni later, the pair met on the outskirts of the city limits and discussed strategy. "We'll come here an hour before the wretched classes start and get changed," Vegeta suggested.  
  
Scratching the back of his head in a bewildered way, Gokou asked, "Why so early? How long does it take to put on clothes?"  
  
"The outfits aren't the only problem. There's our hair. When's the last time you got a comb through that rat's nest of yours?"  
  
Gokou tried to run his fingers through his hair and got them immediately caught in a knot. "I see what you mean..."  
  
"There's also the issue of how we're going to properly act."  
  
"Why? What do you mean by that, Vegeta?"  
  
"We can't just dress alike! We have to act like one another, too," Vegeta snapped. "Give me an example of how you're going to impersonate me."  
  
"Oh! That's easy!" Straightening his spine, Gokou crossed his arms and assumed a glowering frown. Vegeta thought the scowl looked more like the younger warrior was suffering from hemorrhoids, but it was a good start.  
  
"...Okay. Now say something."  
  
Maintaining his gruff act, Gokou started out with, "I don't have ta say nothin' that I don't wanna-"  
  
"Hold it!" Vegeta cut in. "I do NOT sound like a gelded chipmunk with a Brooklyn accent, Kakarrot! Lower your voice and enunciate the words."  
  
"Enuh-Anouce-Uhhhh..."  
  
"E-nun-ci-ate. It means to speak clearly and concisely."  
  
"Oh," Gokou said again. He cleared his throat, thought for a moment and then rasped out in a fair impression of Vegeta's husky voice, "I am the Prince of all Saiyans. I do not have to take part in such utter nonsense as this!"  
  
Blinking in surprise, Vegeta betrayed a nod and confessed, "Hnh. That's actually not bad."  
  
"Your turn."  
  
"No problem." Vegeta loosened up the tension in his shoulders with a few shrugs and then assumed Gokou's trademark one-hand-on-hip-the-other-behind- head posture. Forcing an enormous grin on his face as he shut his eyes, he squeaked out; "My, what a pretty, pretty day! Gosh! I wonder what I'm gonna eat tonight? Will it be spaghetti? Pizza? Oh! I hope its pizza! Yummy!"  
  
"I don't sound like that!" Gokou cried in a wounded voice.  
  
"Yes, you do," Vegeta said, betraying a bark of laughter at his own wit. "Unless you're on the battlefield, you act like a complete moron."  
  
Gokou crossed his arms again but this time it wasn't to imitate Vegeta. "I don't know why I'm agreeing to all of this anyway," he pouted. "How hard can high school be?"  
  
"What's the formula for pi, Kakarrot?"  
  
"Chi-Chi has a great recipe for cherry pie back at the-"  
  
"I rest my case," Vegeta concluded. "I know my own limitations and embracing total strangers in a classroom is one of them. Subjects like math and history are nothing to me. Switching places is for the best."  
  
"Okay, I guess you're right. But I want you to get one thing straight, Vegeta."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"My name is Gokou Son, not Kakarrot. Understand? I don't want a Saiyan name on my tests, reports or the final diploma or I'll be sunk for sure. Got it?"  
  
"Fine" Vegeta grumbled. "We'll meet here in five days at five o'clock. Don't forget."  
  
"I won't," Gokou easy-going smile was back. "I'll rest up for the big day and eat plenty of brain food! See you then, Vegeta!"  
  
Watching him fly away, Vegeta grumbled under his breath, "Talk about a waste of food..."  
  
  
  
Five days later, the pair returned to the small clearing.  
  
Gokou actually appeared excited with the prospect of going back to school and seeing new faces. He had one of Gohan's old high school backpacks slung over one shoulder crammed with the books he would need for his studies. In his free hand he was carrying an enormous paper sack that was stuffed full of sandwiches and various other treats. Ever since he had relented to taking this course, Chi-Chi had been extra affectionate towards him. It was going to be difficult erasing the smile that was plastered on his face after the going-away present she'd given him before he left...  
  
Vegeta, on the other hand, looked as if he hadn't slept since the last time they had met. Back at Capsule Corporation, the Pregnancy Fairy had given Bulma a good slap with the Hormone Wand and turned her into a raving lunatic that burst into tears or screamed in rage from just one wrong word or look. In desperation, he had moved into one of the storage capsules on the property. Trunks, their twelve year-old son, was right in there with him. And he snored. Loudly.  
  
He nodded at Gokou and threw a capsule to the ground that exploded, exposing a large box. "What'cha got in there?" the younger Saiyan inquired.  
  
Opening the crate, Vegeta pulled out one large bottle and threw it over to him. "Hair gel," he said, pulling out another for himself. "I hope it's enough. I bought the entire stock the store had."  
  
"Ewwww... This is really gross," Gokou said as he poured a dollop of the thick clear-colored liquid onto his palm. "What am I supposed to do with it?"  
  
Vegeta reached over, grabbing Gokou's wrist and levered the arm up so that the gel-filled hand smacked against his forehead, splattering gel everywhere.  
  
"Oops," the smaller man said dryly. "I meant to get your hair."  
  
"Sure you did." Gokou wiped the goop out of his eyes and deliberately flicked his slimy fingers into Vegeta's face.  
  
That was it. The pair flew into one another and brawled like a pair of kids in a schoolyard. It was actually a great way to get rid of some of the stress but there was always a problem when Saiyans started fighting. They didn't want to stop. When Gokou had Vegeta in a chokehold, the smaller alien glanced at his watch and announced: "Shit! Kakarrot, we've only got twenty minutes to get ready!"  
  
Both Saiyans popped capsules that held their change of clothes and began to get dressed. Gokou emerged from the tiny change room first decked out in an attractive black sports coat over a navy-blue shirt and tan trousers with crisp pleats. As chic as he looked, he certainly didn't feel comfortable. The clothes seemed too constrictive and he was constantly readjusting himself, which made it look like he had a bad case of jock itch.  
  
A few minutes later, Vegeta stepped outside wearing an exact replica of Gokou's trademark orange gi uniform. He hated the loose-fitting clothes and had never wanted his skin-tight spandex so much in his life. "This makes me look fat," he muttered irritably.  
  
"Cool! A mini-me!" Gokou yelled in delight.  
  
"You are SO close to getting a Final Flash enema-"  
  
"Just a minute, there's something different about you," the younger Saiyan remarked, squinting at him.  
  
"I'm wearing this ridiculous clown costume! Of course there's something different about me!" Vegeta shouted as Gokou stepped right up to him.  
  
"You're... taller," Gokou said.  
  
Starting to fidget, Vegeta turned a shade of red that could only be reserved for extreme embarrassment. "...'mwearinglifts..." he muttered under his breath.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"LIFTS! LIFTS! I'm wearing lifts in my boots! You happy?" Vegeta screamed at him.  
  
"Wow, Vegeta. You should wear them more often." Now there was only about a two-inch difference between them, which wasn't so bad. If Gokou slumped a little they were nearly the same height.  
  
Vegeta wasn't going to betray the fact that he actually wore them on the rare times that he and Bulma stepped out for a night on the town. If she didn't insist on wearing her damn heels, it wouldn't be necessary but there was no way in hell he was going up on tiptoes to kiss his own wife. Especially NOT in public. Pride was one thing. Embarrassment was something else, entirely.  
  
In an effort to change the subject, he retrieved another bottle of gel and squirted some of the contents of his hair, working it in. Saiyan hair was thick and kept the same style dictated at birth. It took almost the entire bottle before Vegeta was able to force his mane into the rough equivalent of Gokou's haphazard spikes.  
  
"That's not bad," Gokou praised. "You pretty much nailed it on the first try."  
  
It was one of the first times in his life that Vegeta didn't want to look at himself in a mirror. "I'll take your word for it. You're next."  
  
Gokou tried to mold his hair to match Vegeta's characteristic flame-style but those stubborn front bangs kept falling back down every time he pulled the hair up. Operating on his last nerve, Vegeta grabbed the younger Saiyan by the ankles and spun him around as fast as he could go. By the time he was finished, Gokou's hair was pointing straight up but he was so dizzy he was almost sick. "That was a dirty thing to do, Vegeta," he moaned as he sat on the ground waiting for the surroundings to stop whirling.  
  
"Time is short and it worked, what are you complaining about?" He encapsulated everything and waited impatiently for the other man to collect his bearings. "Remember, I'm you and you're me. Keep repeating that in your head over and over, if you have to. You're not going to that class to crack jokes and make friends. Sit in the back and be as uncooperative as possible."  
  
"But that's just rude!"  
  
"That's me, idiot! It's called Anger Management for a reason. You have to have a temper just to get in."  
  
"No offense, Vegeta, but maybe you going to these classes might not be such a bad idea," Gokou suggested as got to his feet and tried to stop swaying.  
  
"Fine," the older Saiyan hissed. "We'll call this off and you can go take a class where you have to memorize all of this planet's countries and recite them alphabetically."  
  
"Forget I said anything," Gokou said quickly.  
  
"It's time to go anyway. We'll meet back here after the classes are done," Vegeta said, picking up Gokou's backpack and lunch bag.  
  
"Hey! Those are mine!" Gokou objected.  
  
"I need your books. The meal is a bonus, after all I'm you, remember?" The truth was that pickings at Capsule Corp. had been scarce lately. The Briefs' family housekeeper was on vacation and everyone in the family was basically fending for themselves. Vegeta was looking forward to having one of Chi-Chi's expert meals fill the gnawing in his gut.  
  
"Well, what books do I have to take for my class?"  
  
"There are no books. You just have to sit still and pretend you're paying attention."  
  
Gokou's initial loss over his food was immediately forgotten with this information. "No books? Wow! That's great. I'll do really good in this class, Vegeta."  
  
"You're not supposed to do GOOD! You're supposed to be ME!"  
  
"Well... I'll do my best. I promise."  
  
Vegeta honestly had little doubt that his former nemesis would stick to his word. That was one of Gokou's greatest strength's; To stand by his friends and give his best. Whether Vegeta liked it or not, he had to consent to being a 'friend' in this unique circumstance. "Whatever. Let's get going."  
  
Inside of the doors of the Community College was a large note board that had all class names and corresponding room numbers. Vegeta and Gokou were right across the hall from one another, which would make keeping tabs on each other a little easier. Even before the pair entered the building, they had assumed their opposite identities. Gokou kept his arms crossed as they walked down the corridor, glowering down at the floor. Beside him, Vegeta walked with a rare spring in his step and an even rarer grin plastered on his face. He nodded to everyone he walked past while thinking to himself; My face actually hurts from smiling and it's only been about five minutes. How am I ever going to last eight weeks without going stark, raving nuts?  
  
"Well, here we are," Gokou muttered, staring sidelong at the classroom. "Good luck, V- Gokou."  
  
Vegeta visibly winced. "Yeah, you too, Kak-Gok-...Vegeta."  
  
Each man hurriedly entered their homeroom, not able to make eye contact in their embarrassment.  
  
Vegeta's classroom was packed and the only available desk was directly up in the front, his absolute last choice. Scarcely before he sat down, the instructor directly across from him looked up and asked. "Your name?"  
  
"Veh-Kak-...Gokou Son," Vegeta managed to get out.  
  
Crossing off a name in his list, the teacher- a balding, middle-aged man of African-American descent- waited for the rest of the stragglers to arrive before standing up and announcing, "Good morning everyone. My name is Brad Kennedy and for the next eight weeks I am going to be the teacher preparing you for your G.E.D. I'm going to hand out an evaluation that I want you all to take so that I can determine your strengths and weaknesses in the vital course subjects." He slapped an armload of tests down on Vegeta's desk and said, "Pass these out to the class, Gokou."  
  
Digging his nails into the surface of the desk, Vegeta almost lost it right then and there and had to remind himself over and over; I'm that idiot Kakarrot- I'm that idiot Kakarrot - I'm that idiot- "Sure, Mr. Kennedy," he said with false enthusiasm, "It would be my pleasure!"  
  
"Teacher's pet," someone remarked in the back of the class.  
  
Trying to ignore the comment, and the eyes of thirty-seven classmates aimed solely on him, Vegeta quickly handed out the tests and sat back down. Rivulets of nervous sweat were running down the small of his back and he had to keep brushing that annoying forelock of hair out of his eyes.  
  
Leafing through the pages of the test, it calmed him a little to see that the questions were rudimentary; basic math and English, a little geography and some simple science questions. He would ace the test for sure!  
  
It suddenly occurred to him that these questions were made to test Gokou's knowledge of the subject matter, not his own. A perfect score would immediately draw the unnecessary suspicion he didn't want to attract. There was little doubt that all tests scores would be immediately turned over to Kakarrot's harpy wife. "What's the passing score?"  
  
"Do I hear a question?" Mr. Kennedy asked, making a show of putting his hand to his ear. "I expect my students to call my attention in a polite manner."  
  
Gritting his teeth while the other students snickered at his expense, Vegeta held up his hand.  
  
"Yes, Mr. Son?"  
  
"What's the passing grade on this test?"  
  
"There's really no pass or fail, but I should hope you manage sixty percent."  
  
Perfect, Vegeta thought and began writing in his answers, both wrong and right.  
  
Across the hall, Gokou entered his classroom and saw that all of the seats were arranged in a huge circle. People who obviously wanted to be anywhere else occupied most of them, and Gokou took his seat trying to keep his enormous curiosity at bay.  
  
The counselor was a buxom redhead who smiled pleasantly over at him. "What's your name, sir?"  
  
"Vegeta," Gokou mumbled out.  
  
"Vegeta..." The woman looked down at her list of names. "Vegeta Briefs?"  
  
Gokou really had no idea that Vegeta had adopted Bulma's surname and only added a mute nod.  
  
"Any relation to the Briefs of Capsule Corporation?"  
  
"Bulma's my...wife."  
  
"Let me get this straight," a man seated next to him said roughly. "You're worth a billion-odd bucks and you're in here?"  
  
What would Vegeta say in this situation? Gokou thought. It suddenly came to him in a flash; "I'm slumming."  
  
The man jumped to his feet with a curse and Gokou immediately responded to the threat, getting down into a wary crouch.  
  
"All right gentleman," the councilor said in a soothing tone. "Tensions are high, I understand that. Let's all just sit back down and learn a little about one another, shall we?"  
  
The man reluctantly sat back down, flashing Gokou a glare that clearly said they weren't through yet, not by any stretch of the imagination. Gokou responded with a deliberate sneer all the while laughing his ass off, inside. He was having a ball!  
  
"Mr. Briefs, why don't you start us off?"  
  
Impersonating Vegeta was a lot easier then he would have thought. All that he really had to do was think about a bad thing-  
  
"Mr. Briefs?"  
  
-Like the time supper wasn't ready or that disaster of a driving lesson he'd had to take all those years ago. Once he did that-  
  
"Vegeta!"  
  
Gokou jumped in his seat and betrayed a glance at the door before he realized the instructor was talking to him. He was going to have to work on that. "What?"  
  
"Please tell us a little about yourself."  
  
Slumping down in his seat, Gokou whined, "I don't wanna."  
  
Nodding in sympathy, the woman said, "That's fine. I'm not going to force you to do anything that you're not comfortable with. Derrick, why don't you start-"  
  
"No damn way!" the man beside Gokou shouted. "If he doesn't have to do it just because he's some rich hotshot, I'll be damned if you're going to sucker me into this crap!"  
  
There were grumbled agreements from all around the circle and Gokou found that he was singled out by the councilor again. "Mr. Briefs... Vegeta, perhaps you can tell us why you're here?"  
  
"It was my wife's idea." That, at least, was the truth. As it apparently was for many of the others in the room, if their reluctant head nods were any indication.  
  
"That's a wonderful start. Anything more?"  
  
"Well, she's pregnant again-"  
  
"Congratulations!"  
  
"-Uh, thanks... Anyway, it's going to be a girl and Bulma, that's my, uh, wife wants me to come here. That's, uh, about it."  
  
"Thank you for sharing that with us, Vegeta. Derrick, would you like to go next?"  
  
"Sure," the man mumbled. "I don't have any damn problems with my damn temper- I just want to make that clear right from the start!"  
  
"That's fine. Please continue."  
  
"Well, it all started when I threatened to bring a gun into work-"  
  
  
  
Three and a half hours later, the Saiyans returned to the clearing that they had decided was their home base. Their first destination even before sharing classroom experiences was the nearby river to get that congealed gel out of their hair. Gokou completely stripped down and jumped naked into the water with a relieved yell. A little more conservative, Vegeta undressed to his waist and dipped his head into the water's edge, scrubbing furiously.  
  
"Y'know, that wasn't so bad," Gokou announced as he floated around on his back.  
  
"I didn't think you'd have any troubles," Vegeta said neutrally as he shook out the excess water. Once his hair spiked back up to its more common position, he started to feel a little better. Back at the school when he'd gone to use the bathroom, he almost had a heart attack when he had seen himself in the mirror over the sink.  
  
"How about you? How did class go?"  
  
"I had to write a test."  
  
"Already?!" Gokou howled. "How'd you do?"  
  
"I got a score of sixty-one."  
  
Standing up in a waist-deep pool, Gokou frowned at him. "That's not a very good score, Vegeta. I remember Chi-Chi giving poor Gohan mighty heck for just an eighty."  
  
"It was deliberate, you idiot. You can't be getting hundred's for subjects you supposedly don't know, now can you? Sixty is the pass mark to get your diploma and that's precisely what I'm going to aim for."  
  
"Oh! That's good thinking. Was there any homework I have to do?" Vegeta had copies of Gokou's textbooks at home. That way, he could actually do the homework while Gokou faked it at his own residence with no one being the wiser.  
  
"I have to read the first four chapters on Human History for Wednesday's class."  
  
Gokou's eyes visibly glazed over with boredom and he hadn't even cracked open the book yet. "All I had to do was tell everyone in the class about myself."  
  
Vegeta had been in the process of changing back into his street clothes and snapped his head around. "You did WHAT? What did you say?"  
  
"Well, all I said was that Bulma was pregnant and she wanted me to take the course.  
  
"...Fine. Just so long-"  
  
"Later on, I said-"  
  
"I told you to keep your mouth shut!" Vegeta hollered at him.  
  
"Sorry, Vegeta. It's just that the councilor is really cute and she has this way of making you want to talk about yourself," Gokou said sheepishly.  
  
Glaring daggers at the younger alien, Vegeta finished getting dressed. Once he was done, all he said was; "I'll see you here on Wednesday." Without another word he flew off.  
  
Gokou watched him leave without comment. He was actually emotionally drained from having to maintain the 'Badman' image for three long hours and he was looking forward to going home for a meal. Thanks to Vegeta taking his supper, his stomach wouldn't stop rumbling.  
  
He got quickly dressed and encapsulated everything, tucking the small container under a rock for safekeeping. Retrieving his book bag, he sped quickly home. He had no sooner landed in the yard when Chi-Chi threw open the door and rushed out, asking; "How did you do?"  
  
Gokou felt a pang of instant guilt and was about to expose the entire lie when she added in the same breath; "I bet you flunked out, didn't you?"  
  
That very instant, Gokou resolved to keep what he and Vegeta were doing a secret that he was prepared to take to the grave. "Nope, honey-buns," he said with a smile he definitely did not feel at that moment. "I had to write a test and I passed it!"  
  
"You're kidding! Let me see-" He had been in the process of unfolding it and she snatched it from his hands and read the contents. "Sixty-one?" she asked in disbelief.  
  
"Well, I know it's a little low-"  
  
"Oh, Gokou, it-it's wonderful!" she shouted, rushing into his arms and kissing him.  
  
The pair went inside of their small home and Chi-Chi rewarded him for his endeavors by pulling him into the bedroom. After that, she cooked him a meal fit for a king. Truth to tell, Gokou would have preferred the meal first but he wasn't complaining. It was just one indication that perhaps some of Vegeta's character was rubbing off on him. Little did he know that it was only the beginning...  
  
At Capsule Corporation, Vegeta landed at the storage unit that had become his temporary residence and decided to scrounge something to eat before he started studying.  
  
Just as he entered the kitchen, Bulma and Trunks yelled, "Surprise!" nearly scaring him out of his skin.  
  
"What's this for?" he asked gruffly, relaxing a little when Bulma flounced over and kissed him on the cheek. She was dressed in a form fitting red dress with a low neckline that immediately caught his attention. Apart from a slight swell of her stomach, she wasn't showing her pregnancy yet but the days were counting down. Perhaps he wasn't going to have to spend another night in the drafty storage capsule after all...  
  
"I'm just so proud of you going to that course when I know you don't want to," Bulma said.  
  
"Got THAT right."  
  
"I cooked a late supper for you. Go into the dining room and I'll bring it right out."  
  
Vegeta sniffed the air curiously, detecting a scent that was a cross between rotten eggs and burnt meat. Despite his better judgment, he sat at the table and waited for the inevitable. Emerging from the kitchen, Bulma laid down plates laden with indistinguishable brown lumps before his place setting. Vegeta took one look at the mess and asked, "What was this before you cooked it?"  
  
That was all it took.  
  
With a scream of rage, Bulma collected the plates and threw them, food and all, into the kitchen sink. After that, she ran out of the dining room, wailing at the top of her lungs.  
  
"Nice going, Dad," Trunks remarked sourly.  
  
"I meant it. What the hell was that?!" Vegeta cried.  
  
"Geez, Dad. You could try to be more considerate, you know. Mom worked all evening on that meal," his son said. He was going into the kitchen to see if there was anything of supper to be salvaged and got off a final parting shot: "Just so you know, she's not the only one glad that you're going to these courses either."  
  
Sitting alone in the dining room, Vegeta listened to the forlorn sobbing of his mate coming from the next room. "Ah crap," he muttered. It looked more and more like the storage unit was going to become his permanent home.  
  
  
  
Two days later, the pair met again and quickly established a routine that didn't waste any time. Gokou still had a hard time getting his hair to go straight up and he figured that Vegeta got way too much enjoyment out of spinning him by the ankles to get the style right.  
  
When the Saiyan released him, Gokou walked around in aimless circles and then sat down, dizzy. They still had ten minutes to spare and it seemed the best time to try and make some conversation. Vegeta was close-mouthed, even more than usual, but he was also chain-smoking like crazy. "You okay, Vegeta?"  
  
"Mind your own business, dumbnuts," came the expected response.  
  
Gokou watched him puff away for a few more minutes and then blurted out, "Lemme try one."  
  
"What?" He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth. "This?"  
  
"I'm supposed to be you, right? It looks really neat. Maybe I'll do it at school."  
  
Smiling now for no good reason, Vegeta offered him the pack and threw him the lighter. "Sure, Kakarrot. You'll like it. They taste just like chocolate."  
  
"Really? Wow!" Gokou quickly pulled out one of the slender tubes and put it into his mouth. "Like this?"  
  
"It's backwards, idiot."  
  
Gokou turned it around and tucked the filter end between his lips. Awkwardly holding the lighter, he looked up to the other alien for direction. "Now I just light it, right?"  
  
"That's right," Vegeta said, his slight smile broadening. "As you're lighting the end, suck on it as hard as you can. Pretend it's a straw in a milkshake."  
  
"Vanilla?"  
  
"...Sure. Whatever."  
  
"Okay, here I go-" Thumbing the flint on the lighter, Gokou lit the end of the cigarette and drew on it as hard as he could at the same time, filling his virgin lungs with thick, acrid smoke.  
  
Vegeta could swear that the younger alien turned as green as Piccolo. When realization dawned on what he had done to himself, Gokou dropped the lighter with a spasm and released a strangled squawk. His entire body froze in place and shuddered as his lungs rebelled to what he'd done to them. Dimly, he recalled Vegeta saying in an amused voice, "Well? Does it taste like chocolate or vanilla?"  
  
With a violent spasm, Gokou spit the cigarette out and bent over, coughing so hard that he almost threw up on his brand new shoes. In the background, Vegeta was chuckling under his breath and shaking his head at the same time.  
  
"AGH! They're awful!" Gokou managed to get out between tortured wheezes. "How can anyone smoke these terrible things?"  
  
"Trunks said the same thing after he tried it. Now you're both a little wiser," the older Saiyan said with his usual smirk. Unexpectedly, he stepped forward and offered the ailing fighter his hand and helped pull him to his feet. "Shake it off, we have to get going."  
  
Squinting at him through watering eyes, Gokou managed a mute nod and managed to collect his belongings in preparation to leave. Just before they flew off, Vegeta looked at him sidelong and said in a soft voice, "Thanks for the laugh, Kakarrot."  
  
Blinking in surprise, Gokou tried to stammer out some sort of response but he was too late. He had to hustle just to keep up with the Saiyan as they went to school.  
  
  
  
Over the next couple of weeks, the pair settled into a routine that, so far, appeared to be working favorably for them. Gokou shared the advice that he learned through the Anger Management and Sensitivity workshops with Vegeta who, to his credit, appeared to be listening to what he had to say. What he did with that information was another matter. Things at Capsule Corp. hadn't improved and he was still living in the storage capsule and the strain was beginning to show. Truth to tell, Vegeta was privately wondering if it wouldn't be for the best if he moved out entirely. His relationship with Bulma just seemed to be going downhill and he didn't know how to stop it.  
  
Oblivious of his friend's troubles, Gokou kept up the farce of studying at home under Chi-Chi's watchful eye. More often than not, he sat at the kitchen table with one of the study books open in front of him. He had his chair positioned so that he could watch the television from where he was sitting. Right now, he was watching a movie over Goten's shoulder; ducking his head whenever his wife so much as looked his way. The book he had at the moment was Biology and Gokou had zoned out right after he read the first chapter's title; The Wonders of Deoxyribonucleic- blah-blah-blah-  
  
Despite his mastering of Vegeta's personality during the hours he spent at school, Gokou was certain that he shelved it once he got home. Back at the Son household, he was his same old, happy-go-lucky self. Or so he thought. Even as he was watching the movie, there was that dreamy, vacant smile on his face-  
  
-then Chi-Chi shut off the TV. "Go watch the movie in your room, Goten. Your father can't concentrate on his studies."  
  
"!!WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, YOU STUPID WOMAN!?!" Gokou screamed out before he knew what he was doing. "I was watching that!!"  
  
Slapping his hands over his mouth, his eyes widened in horror as Chi-Chi turned slowly around to confront him. In the living room, his eleven year- old son dropped a can of pop from numb fingers. He was staring at his father in stunned amazement.  
  
"What did you say to me?" she asked coolly.  
  
"oh shit," Gokou moaned, apparently still stuck in Vegeta-mode.  
  
That night, the bewildered husband spent the night kicked out of the house. The Son family did NOT have a large storage capsule he could sleep in, they had a barn and that was precisely where he stayed.  
  
  
  
Neither Saiyan was in the best of spirits when they went to classes the next evening. To make matters worse, Chi-Chi had chosen that time to come to the school and check up on her husband. His outburst the night before had been completely out of character and she was privately wondering if the pressure of passing the course wasn't starting to affect him.  
  
She went to the classroom and found the door closed. Peering into the window, she saw that everyone was bent over their desks obviously writing a test. Her precious Gokou was sitting right up in the front, one hand gripping his haphazard spikes, the other scrawling answers onto the paper (Gokou was right-handed, Vegeta favored his left; by switching hands, Vegeta had captured the other Saiyan's messy printing to perfection) and then quickly erasing them. He looked so focused on his task that Chi-Chi betrayed a smile and chose not to disturb him. She left before he noticed her.  
  
Human biology was perhaps Vegeta's weakest subject, and he was genuinely floundering on the test. He hadn't studied the night before, exercising all of his recent frustrations inside the gravity simulator. The way things were looking right now, sixty percent looked to be about the best he could get and that was only if he got extremely lucky. Glancing to his left, he could see the test paper of the woman seated next to him and started to slowly lean over.  
  
Seated at his own desk, Mr. Kennedy cleared his throat in clear warning. Vegeta dipped his head like a little boy caught doing something wrong and labored over the test, sweating profusely and blushing.  
  
Meanwhile in the hallway, Chi-Chi was smiling fondly at the closed door when she heard across the hall; "-thank you for your contribution, Vegeta, but donuts will NOT be made available for the next class."  
  
This she HAD to see.  
  
The door to the workshop was open and she stood off to one side and cautiously peered in. It was a much smaller class then what her husband was in. Perhaps eighteen people, almost all men, were seated in a circle facing the councilor who was standing in the middle. Chi-Chi spotted Vegeta at once. He was sitting with his back to her but she could plainly see that wild mane of erect spikes.  
  
"Yes? Can I help you?" the woman suddenly asked her.  
  
"No," Chi-Chi piped up. "I was just looking in. Sorry to disturb all of you."  
  
Gokou was still miffed about his unfair exile from the house for the entire night. Not to mention that he had woken up the next morning in the embrace of the family's hog. He managed to submerge his shock rather well at the unexpected sight of his wife. Slouching in his seat, he remained in character and did something that he had never done before or since.  
  
He gave Chi-Chi the finger. Truth to tell, it felt pretty damn good to do it, too.  
  
All he heard was a disgusted huff from behind him and the sound of receding footfalls. On his face was a smirk that would have had Vegeta glowing in pride.  
  
"That wasn't very nice, Mr. Briefs," the councilor scolded.  
  
Gokou's smirk only widened.  
  
  
  
The pair was over the halfway mark in their mutual studies. Vegeta was managing to keep Gokou's grades just above the bare minimum requirement for a pass despite the fact that the course was getting harder than he would ever admit, particularly to Gokou himself. He was actually spending his free time studying in the storage capsule or gravity simulator. Although he told Gokou that he was keeping the marks deliberately low, more often than not, a score of sixty was actually the best he could do. It had now become much more than just a way to get out of a class he hadn't wanted to take. Now it was personal, and he studied like a man possessed.  
  
Gokou found the Anger Management classes utterly boring and struggled not to fall asleep. He wanted to get out and spar, or swim, or anything just so long as he could get out of this classroom. He was constantly fidgeting in place and his restrictive clothing didn't help the situation. Derrick, who seemed to go out of his way to antagonize him, instantly zeroed in on his restlessness.  
  
"What the hell's wrong with you?" the man piped up when Gokou was fiddling with his zipper. "You gotta case of crotch-roaches or something?"  
  
"You've been riding my ass since I got through the door," Gokou immediately shot back, no longer having to rehearse his responses anymore. The words flowed out of his mouth as if he actually was Vegeta; "Back the hell off or I'm going to beat the living shit out of you!"  
  
"Mr. Briefs!" the councilor snapped.  
  
"Bring it on, buddy!" Derrick cried, jumping to his feet.  
  
"There will be no fighting in this classroom!" the woman screeched. "Vegeta, go outside and cool off for a few minutes."  
  
"My pleasure," Gokou huffed and stormed out of the room.  
  
After some restless pacing up and down the hallway, Gokou's inexplicable display tormented him. Assuming Vegeta's grating personality was finally getting to him and he realized that he was losing his own innocent outlook. Even more troubling was the fact that there was a part of him that seemed to enjoy it.  
  
He got a drink of water and then looked into the classroom Vegeta was taking. The Saiyan was slouching in his seat, idly playing with his pen while the teacher droned on; "-coordinating elements of a successful marketing scheme vary according to its consumer base but for one identifying characteristic. Can anyone tell me-"  
  
Vegeta shot straight up in his seat. "Oh! Oh! I know that one, Mr. Kennedy!"  
  
"Gokou," the teacher sighed.  
  
"You need a product to market, am I right? Huh? That's right, isn't it? Mr. Kennedy? A product?"  
  
"Yes, Gokou, that's correct," the man responded. "Now can anyone elaborate on that-"  
  
"Oh! Oh!"  
  
"Can anyone ELSE, other than Gokou, explain the importance of productivity," Mr. Kennedy rumbled; fixing the Saiyan with a baleful stare while the rest of the students chuckled.  
  
Still in a bad mood, Gokou almost charged into the classroom at the way that Vegeta was portraying him. Then the smaller Saiyan glanced over in his direction and deliberately flashed him a devilish smirk. He had sensed the younger alien nearby and had deliberately overacted for his benefit. It helped to break up the monotony a little, too.  
  
Gokou passed him a weary wave and returned to his classroom a little calmer then when he'd left. Derrick was standing beside the instructor and when he approached, she said, "Derrick has something to say to you, Vegeta. Don't you Derrick?"  
  
Staring down at the floor, the human mumbled through tense lips, "'m sorry..."  
  
"I'm sorry, too," Gokou said. The only difference between the two was that he actually meant it.  
  
The pair shook hands and at that moment, the councilor chirped, "Now we can begin the next phase of our training. Derrick and Vegeta are going to demonstrate the wonders of Hug Therapy."  
  
Ah crap, Gokou thought.  
  
  
  
By the end of the week, both Saiyan's returned to the clearing and wordlessly changed back into their own identities. They had the routine down to just under fifteen minutes and barely exchanged more than a few words, like plant workers getting off at the end of a grueling shift.  
  
"What do you have for homework?" Gokou finally asked when they were ready to go their separate ways.  
  
"I have to write a 5000 word essay on the effects of pollution on the environment." Vegeta said ruefully. "You?"  
  
"I'm supposed to hug my wife and tell her I love her."  
  
"I got off cheap," Vegeta retorted and took off.  
  
With a sigh, Gokou returned home and unerringly went out back to the woodshed to chop up some firewood. Popping her head out of the kitchen window, Chi-Chi called to him, "Goten can do that. You need to study."  
  
"I'm taking a night off," he said and brought the axe down on a log as big around as the Ox King's torso, splitting it in half. Settling into the mundane chore helped to relax him and all he had to do was focus on the task at hand; chop-chop-chop. It sure beat dwelling on the fact that he had spent the last few hours embracing a classroom full of men.  
  
"You can't afford to take the night off."  
  
"Tough. I'm doing it."  
  
"Gokou, come inside this instant and start studying!"  
  
"Stop treating me like I'm a little kid, Chi-Chi!" he suddenly yelled into her astonished face. "I'm not Goten or Gohan- I'm your husband and I want you to stop nagging at me over every stupid little thing! I'm sick and tired of it!"  
  
She disappeared from the window and was at the backdoor barely two seconds later. This time, Gokou stood his ground when she walked towards him, no longer willing to be intimidated by her. The pair locked eyes for a moment until, to his amazement, she dropped hers first.  
  
"I know that all of this studying has been hard on you. I guess you deserve a break. I'm sorry, Gokou. Chop all of the wood you want."  
  
"Thanks Chi-Chi," Gokou said and resumed the hard labor. He vaguely regretted the outburst but he couldn't deny the result. From that point on, Chi-Chi kept her trademark bitchiness to a minimum.  
  
At around midnight, Vegeta sat on the roof of the storage capsule and stared forlornly up at the stars. A faint sigh reached his ears and he looked over at the headquarters building and saw Bulma standing out on the balcony of what had once been their bedroom. He stared at her for a long while, silently deliberating, and finally took to the air.  
  
Landing soundlessly behind her, he nervously clenched and unclenched his sweaty hands before calling out, "Bulma."  
  
Whirling in surprise, she looked at him; first with hope in her wide blue eyes before they narrowed in suspicion. There were tracks of recent tears on both of her cheeks, glittering in the starlight. "Well, well, look who's here. Come to criticize me for my nightgown?"  
  
He didn't respond to the sarcasm. Instead, he stepped forward until their bodies were almost touching. Before she could react, he pulled her close into a tight embrace.  
  
With a relieved sigh, Bulma melted against him and hugged him back, marveling at this very rare gesture and more than grateful for it. "Come back home, Vegeta," she said against his chest, her words muffled. She was crying again but this time, they were tears of relief. "Come back to me, I miss you so much."  
  
Vegeta relaxed at long last. Briefly nuzzling her hair, he said in a low voice, "Not before I tell you something."  
  
"What is it, Vegeta?"  
  
"It's very important. Just three little words..."  
  
She looked at him, holding her breath. "I'm listening."  
  
He brushed the wayward strands of hair out of her face and gently kissed her on the cheek. Settling his lips against her ear, he whispered, "Don't ever cook."  
  
  
  
Finally, after eight weeks of indescribable suffering, came the moment that both Saiyan's had been anticipating with an equal mixture of fear and dread.  
  
Test day.  
  
Vegeta was told to sit beside Mr. Kennedy while he wrote his final exam so the huge man could keep him under a close watch. It was humiliating sitting up in front of the class like some class clown but the reason was even worse; the damned teacher had frisked him before handing the tests out.  
  
Believing himself to be shrewd, Vegeta had written cheat notes on everything he could think of in near-microscopic print everywhere on his body; the inside of his collar, between the buttons on his calculator, along the soles of his shoes, on his pens and pencils, along his arms and between his fingers. At the sight, Mr. Kennedy gave him two choices: Strip or fail. As a result, Vegeta sat at the desk clad in only the bottom half of his copied uniform, barefoot, and his hands and arms scrubbed clean. The sight of his impressive physique distracted the female students (and some of the men) to such a point that the Saiyan had to wear the teacher's coat. It was about ten sizes too big for his small frame and the sleeves dangled beyond his fingertips.  
  
With all of that, it was small wonder that the Saiyan's mind was virtually a blank slate as he leafed through the thick test. He had locked himself inside of the gravity simulator for the entire night with the entire daunting assortment of books strewn about him, intent on a night of cramming. He ended up falling asleep face-first in one thick tome and slept the entire night through. When he woke up, drool had caused the left side of his face to stick to the page. His second mistake was using what precious little time remained to scribble answers all over himself. What a disaster...  
  
The time to play Kakarrot is over, Vegeta forced through his whirling mind, closing his eyes in concentration. If I'm going to pass this damn thing, I'm going to have to count on my own resources. No more pretending. Just me.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and began using a borrowed pen to write in the answers.  
  
Across the hall, Gokou was sitting in his usual seat but his body language had changed from his usual 'bite-me' stance to one of utter bewilderment. The test that would determine a pass or fail in the Anger Management course was neither written nor oral. Everybody was groaning and shaking their heads in disbelief at the councilor's suggestion.  
  
"You want us to go to an Old Folks Home?" Derrick asked in dismay.  
  
The woman nodded cheerfully. "I want you to use what you've learned here over the last eight weeks and spend a few hours of your time visiting some lonely senior citizens. Your conduct will be evaluated to determine your final mark."  
  
"AGGHHHH! Screw this! I hate old farts!" Derrick shouted and stamped out of the room, to everybody's relief. Even the councilor felt no remorse and marking an "F" next to Derrick's name. As usual, her eyes fell on the other hotheaded troublemaker in the classroom. "Mr. Briefs? How do you feel about this?"  
  
Gokou leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. "Let's just get this nonsense over and done with," he muttered.  
  
As they left the room to board the bus waiting outside, Gokou glanced at the closed door of the classroom where Vegeta was writing the exam that should have been his. Gently plucking the strands of their mutual rapport, he heard the older Saiyan thinking:  
  
-should have blown up this damn planet when I got the chance. Who gives a Gay Ginyu about the Prime Minister of some stupid country, anyway? What a load of crap! I'd KILL for a cigarette right about now! And I wish that damn teacher would stop eyeballing me! Son of a b-  
  
If Gokou had been worried before, it was safe to say that it had now quadrupled. He remained lost in thought all the way to the Senior Citizen's Complex and followed the rest of the group into one of the rooms where a handful of the more lively and approachable elderly men and women had gathered. All that the students had to do was mingle.  
  
Gokou looked over at one old woman who fixed him with a wide, toothless grin, extending her arms for a hug. He realized right then and there that it was time to drop the Vegeta façade and approach this test with his own friendly character or they were both sunk. With an easy smile, he walked over and allowed the woman to put her arms around him.  
  
This isn't so bad, Gokou thought as he returned the hug while the councilor watched and made notes while nodding in pleasure. Aw heck, I bet even Vegeta could have done this!  
  
That thought remained until the old girl reached down and pinched his ass. Gokou knew full well that his Saiyan counterpart would have plowed her through the wall for the act but he, himself, just laughed.  
  
At least until the woman locked her lips around his mouth...  
  
A few hours later, the class returned to the school and Gokou saw that Vegeta was standing outside of the entrance, smoking. And he wasn't the only one. About one third of the Adult Learning class was mingling around bumming smokes off of the others, their faces shell-shocked and dazed.  
  
"What's going on?" Gokou asked as he sauntered over to where the Saiyan was standing. For some reason, Vegeta was barefoot and wearing a coat that would have looked extra-large on Tien.  
  
"Teacher's entering the tests into the computer," Vegeta said shortly, deliberately avoiding eye contact.  
  
Gokou noticed that he looked flushed and exhausted, even the haphazard spikes of his hair were drooping more than usual. "Well...how do you think you did?"  
  
Offering a very un-Vegetalike shrug, the older Saiyan parried with; "How'd it go with you?"  
  
"Well, we had to go visit some Senior Citizens and hug them," Gokou remarked, pausing as Vegeta released a choked sound. "I thought I was doing pretty good with one old lady until she stuck her tongue down my throat..."  
  
Vegeta didn't like how the other man's words drifted off. Not one little bit. "What happened?"  
  
Tracing designs into the dirt with the toe of his expensive leather shoe, Gokou muttered. "Nothing really serious. I mean, they managed to bring her back with the paddles-"  
  
"oh shit," Vegeta moaned. Just as he was about to start screaming (or crying, he was close to both), he noticed that the other students were going back inside. "The tests must be marked."  
  
Neither of them was in any hurry to leave. After several minutes, Gokou forced the paralysis out of his legs and made the first move. "Good luck, Vegeta," he offered as he walked towards the doors.  
  
"You, too," Vegeta muttered under his breath, so low that he was sure the other alien wouldn't have heard him. After extinguishing his cigarette, he reluctantly entered the building to confront his fate.  
  
  
  
A half hour later, the pair was standing in their private clearing for the last time. Both Saiyans stared in stunned amazement at the paper they each held in their hands.  
  
"'In recognition of perfect attendance in Anger Management and applicable Sensitivity training, Vegeta Briefs has passed the course with passable consideration and understanding for all living things.'" Vegeta snorted and folded the paper up until it fit into his back pocket. "What a load of crap. Eh, Kakarrot?"  
  
Gokou was soundlessly mouthing the words on his own diploma. He paid particular attention to the name on the certificate in the small chance that Vegeta's attention had lapsed and "Kakarrot" was in the place of his proper earth name. He needn't worry himself on that point. "Gokou Son" had passed his High School Equivalency test with a final average of sixty-two- point-five percent. "Thank you, Vegeta," he said sincerely. He looked close to tears.  
  
"It was a business transaction; nothing more, nothing less," Vegeta dismissed with a wave. He could afford to be in good spirits now. He had gotten what he wanted, the classes were over, and the Pregnancy Fairy had seen fit to gift Bulma with an insatiable desire for sex. Added to the mix was a generous slap from the Titty Wand. Things were finally looking up.  
  
Reverently placing the certificate back into its protective plastic sheath, Gokou commented, "I'm really glad that we did this."  
  
"Well, the reason is obvious-"  
  
"I don't just mean the diploma's, Vegeta, and you know it," Gokou said in exasperation. "This was good for the two of us. We really got to work together and the fate of the planet wasn't even hanging in the balance-"  
  
"No, just our mates wrath," came the sour retort.  
  
"I'm trying to be serious."  
  
"Spout all of the drivel you want, Kakarrot. Our alliance is over; we both got what we wanted," Vegeta said, frisking himself for his pack of cigarettes and staring moodily at the package. "Including a pack a day habit," he muttered and abruptly ground the contents under his boot. "Now we can go back to our own lives."  
  
Gokou clearly wasn't ready to drop the subject. "Well, for what it's worth, it was pretty cool impersonating you, Vegeta."  
  
Hesitating before he left, the older Saiyan stared at him as if he were mad. "Glad I can't say the same, dumbnuts," he retorted but he added a brief, conspiring wink just before he flew off.  
  
Standing alone in the clearing, Gokou took one last look around, smiling. Sure, he and Vegeta had spent the last eight weeks under the constant shadow of deceit and lies. They had conspired together against their own families to achieve an extremely selfish goal. Any other normal person would have regretted the act with utter disdain and confessed their sins with the intention of putting things back to right.  
  
Then again, no normal person was married to Bulma or Chi-Chi, either. Gokou figured that made him and Vegeta exempt.  
  
Tucking his well-earned diploma carefully into his backpack, Gokou took to the darkening sky with a whistle on his lips. He considered the lapse of morality payment in full for the constant, selfless preservation of earth.  
  
And damn, it had sure felt good playing the Badman for a change!  
  
  
  
~The End. 


End file.
